


Solace

by hippolarium



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: ALRIGHT MY DUDES, AND IT HAS A GENUINE PLOT, ANOTHER DISCLAIMER, Canon Compliant, Character Study, DAMMIT I JUST WANNA SEE WILL SOLACE GET THE LOVE HE DESERVES, FOR LITERALLY A MONTH NOW, Gen, I DONT HAVE A PLAN LMAO, IVE BEEN WORKING ON THIS SINGLE CHAPTER, also im tagging it with, and i canNOT GUARANTEE THAT THIS FIC WILL ACTUALLY BE FINISHED, anyways this is mostly, because i feel like he cops so much hate in the fandom, because i wanna do a, because we all know Michael dies at the end of the series, but idk who else might become significant as a i write this, but im DOING IT FOR THE FANDOm, but there will be moments, for my baby boy will, i have commitment issues, i really wanna aim to finish it though, ill change the tags as i go along probably, im tagging all these minor characters, it'll be the same story, not too much though, this is mainly for my own purposes, when its really because we know nothing about him???, where i deviate a little, writing a multi chaptered fic gives me so much stress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 17:39:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14141124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hippolarium/pseuds/hippolarium
Summary: Being a demigod has always been stressful for Will Solace. But it was bearable in Camp Half-Blood. He knew he was a healer, even before he turned thirteen. And he'll always have his half-brother/head counsellor, Michael to fall back on. But Will Solace is standing on the precipice of change. And the cost of that change is great.(idk how to do summaries) This is set during the Last Olympian.





	Solace

My mama used to tell me that when I was a baby, I rarely cried at all. It worried her at first; she was afraid I’d turn out to be some sort of psychopath who wouldn’t be able to care about people normally. But she was quickly proven wrong when she brought me to my first play date. True to my nature, I didn’t cry when my friend and I ran off the sidewalk and grazed our knees. Instead when she found me, I was hugging my friend in the best way a two year old could, and had somehow managed to silence a screaming toddler.

“Be careful with that big heart of yours,” she’d always tell me after tucking me in. “It’s so easy to forget the most important thing, when you’re too busy fitting everyone else into your heart.”

“And what’s that, Mama?”

She would smile at me wistfully, and her eyes would become distant. “You. You can share that big heart of yours with as many people as you like, Will. But promise me. Don’t forget to leave a little room for yourself, too.”

—

Even though a demigod’s powers only started manifesting themselves properly when they were thirteen, it was pretty evident which of my dad’s blessings I specialised in when I arrived at Camp Half Blood. I had always been a little hypersensitive to the suffering of others; calling out a broken rib or the exact location of a cut before the patient themselves could identify it. The satyrs could tell straight away that I had Apollo’s healing magic, and I was alright with working with them on minor injuries.

But when Percy Jackson returned to Camp, I quickly realised that my sensitivity to pain extended beyond the physical.

In the distance, the horn sounded. It was a signal of a returning hero from a quest they had either conquered or failed. When I arrived at the pavilion I saw Percy Jackson and Chiron speaking, before Annabeth Chase interrupted their conversation by tackling Percy. Of course he made it. He was the son of Poseidon, but his prestigious parentage only made up a fraction of the legend that he was. He was a rarity, the first demigod to be involved in four subsequent prophecies, and to have succeeded in his quests. He had been to Olympus — twice — and lived to tell the story. And it didn’t hurt either that he was unmistakably powerful; he had won in battles against countless monsters, Ares himself, and even the titans. At fifteen, he had arguably saved more lives more times than any retired police officer.

Someone in the back of the crowd let out a small cheer. It picked up speed as people joined in with applause.

Until Silena Beauregard pushed her way to the front.

It was as if a veil in my mind was pulled back. Suddenly I noticed the grim expression on Percy Jackson’s face, the worry in Chiron’s eyes, and most notably-

“Where’s Charlie?”

Something cold was building up in my chest, like a rubber band being stretched apart, from the moment Silena spoke. There was a sense of familiarity to the sensation, but it was also entirely new to me. It made me uneasy.

Chiron seemed to age ten years. “Silena, my dear,” he started gently. “Let’s talk about this at the Big House —“

“No.”

She couldn’t have said it any louder than a whisper but her voice reverberated in my ears, and the rubber band in my chest snapped.

Something cold and heavy collapsed onto me, and I was forced onto my knees. My insides seemed to implode in on themselves, and a burning sensation ran down my neck. I felt my heartbeat soar, like the single moment you step off the stairs too early and you free fall. But instead of finding solid ground, I was clutching at thin air. It felt as a mysterious force was pulling my breath from my lips faster than I could give it out. There was a roaring pain in my chest, like a large chunk of it had been torn out. I wanted to push the feeling away, to get as far away from it as possible. But it only seemed to grow, like a monstrous wave crashing over me, pulling me into the depths.

Then, everything turned off at once, and my head hit the pavement.

—

The first thing I registered was the faint taste of my mama’s barbecue brisket. She had made it once, and only once, for my eleventh birthday when I went home to Texas. She hated cooking with a passion, but that day, she decided, was a special occasion.

Beside me, I registered the steady beeping of a heart monitor. I opened my eyes.

“Son, let me tell you how strange it is to be seeing you on a patient’s bed, for once.”

I smiled at the sight of the old satyr. “Hey, Holt. Good to see you again.”

Holt was the main healing satyr that operated in the infirmary. Most of the satyrs in camp rotated their duties, from being in the infirmary, to being in the strawberry patches, to attending to Mr D. But he was allowed to work full time as a healer, with a few exceptions. He was a taller satyr, who held himself with poise and dignity, with a deep grumbly voice. He also had a stern face, the creases between his eyebrows a permanent fixture, and his dark hair was streaked with grey.

He grumbled to himself. “I wish it was under better circumstances.”

The memory of what had happened before came to mind and with it, the sensation of pain. But it was duller this time, and far more endurable, like a big gash that had been wrapped up. “What happened to me?”

Holt bleated a little nervously. “It was horrible, kid. When they brought you in, you were out cold and your head and hands were bleeding. Low blood pressure, barely a heartbeat, you had practically gone into shock. Luckily we were able to get that heart beating properly again. And the fact that you can take nectar doesn’t hurt either.”

I couldn’t help the spike of anxiety that shot through me at the sound of that. I knew what it was like to be in the frenzy of a treatment. But the most stressful thing I had been a part of was setting a broken bone, and that seemed to pale in comparison to this. “Sorry for putting you through that,” I said earnestly. “Were there any complications?”

Holt visibly relaxed. “Thank the gods, you were able to make a full recovery. You should be free to go in maybe an hour or two. But before we do that, how about answering-“

Suddenly, the door burst open and Michael charged in, his quiver still on his back. “Is he awake? Is he alright? Is he-“

He caught sight of me and let out a laugh of relief. He quickly made his way over, dodging beds and tables. “Will!”

I cringed at the volume of his voice. Holt shot Michael a glare. “Careful, kid,” he warned. “He just woke up. He’s still a little sensitive.”

Michael paced himself immediately and quietened. He pulled a chair from a nearby table and sat down beside me. He was scowling, which wasn’t an unusual sight from him, but the crease between his eyebrows revealed genuine concern. His fingers fiddled with his quiver. “How are you doing, buddy?”

I gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m fine. Holt said I made a full recovery,” I told him.

Michael was the recently appointed head counsellor for Apollo, but I had known him as a brother to me for much longer. He didn’t look very intimidating, he didn’t even stand at five feet, and he had small, scrunched up features, but he didn’t let that stop him from gaining notoriety for his loud mouth. Holt didn’t like him too much, but he was too polite to say so. He had been suspended from the infirmary a few times when he was younger, chasing after a fight despite being injured himself. Holt had to convince Chiron to let him be healed in another room because he’d always disturb the other patients.

Michael relaxed, slumping over as the tension left his body. “Thank the gods,” he muttered. “But what happened?” He turned to Holt. “Why did he pass out?”

“If you had given us a few more minutes, kid, I would be able to answer that for you,” Holt grumbled.

I sat up and glanced nervously at Michael, afraid that a yelling match would ensue, but his eyes remained fixated on me. “The last thing I remember was Silena finding out that Beckendorf was gone,” I told them. “After that I just-“

The pain that had been bearable only a few moments before spiked, rising to match my memory of it. I groaned and clutched the bedsheets. The heart monitor beside me grew faster, beeping like an insistent alarm.

Beyond the pain, I heard the sound of a chair shuffling across the floor. “What’s happening to him?” came Michael’s garbled voice. “You said he made a full recovery. You said he made a full recovery!”

Then the pain seemed to recede back into the recesses, and I felt my muscles easing. The world gradually shifted back into focus. The beeping of the heart monitor, though still rapid, was beginning to even out. Finally, I was left panting controllably, my hands still fisted in the sheets.

“That,” I croaked out. “After Beckendorf and Silena. That’s the last thing I remember.”

“What the _hell_ , was that? _!_ I swear to Zeus-“

Thunder rolled across the camp. Holt and I looked uneasily at the sky, but Michael waved it off like it was a minor inconvenience. “I was watching you have a heart attack, or something. I thought you were gonna pass out again, it was-“

“Alright, that’s enough now, kid. I don’t want any more casualties here.” Holt grumbled, his eyes flicking back to the sky. He pulled out his own chair and sat down beside Michael. I recognised the stoic coolness in his expression immediately. It was the same look he got on his face when he was dealing with traumatised campers. “You said that experience was directly after Silena found out about Beckendorf?”

I nodded meekly. Holt nodded encouragingly. “Good. Now can you describe what it felt like?" 

“It was overwhelming. Enough to take over my senses, and I found it difficult to see or hear things around properly. Obviously, there was a lot of pain,” I said.

“Any tenderness, broken bones, trauma to any organs-“

“No,” I interrupted. “It’s not like anything that can be fixed with the equipment we have here. Well, it did end up affecting my heart and blood pressure, but I don’t think that’s the root of it. I think it’s more of a mind thing rather than any physical injuries.”

A flicker of recognition flashed through his eyes, imperceptible to anyone who hadn’t spent hours training with him in the infirmary. He seemed to notice that I’d recognised it as well, because he sighed. “I have a theory,” he said, answering my unspoken question.

Michael, who had been sitting uncharacteristically quietly, came alive in an instant. “You do?”

“Yes,” Holt replied. “But it’s just a theory. I need more information first.”

“But-" 

“No buts. Sit quietly and let me do my job, kid.”

Michael shifted in his seat uneasily but to my surprise, he stayed quiet.

“Think hard, Will. Would you say there was a particular… emotion attached to that pain?”

“What are you suggesting?” Michael blurted out. “That he-“

“Hush!” Holt hissed. He turned his attention back to me. “So?”

I thought back. The most defining thing about the pain was the fact that it overwhelmed me. It was beyond anything I had ever experienced before. But it was also… incredibly sad. Like a vital part of my body, or rather, psyche, had been ripped violently from me. I felt like I had been knocked off balance, abandoned, and left to bleed slowly.

“It felt like grief,” I answered finally. “Like I was missing something that I had come to heavily rely on.”

Holt made a sound of approval, and the glimmer returned momentarily to his eyes. “Good. Anything else?”

“Yes,” I said, almost immediately. “I’ve never felt anything like that. And I don’t have any reason to. I suffered through that, but I don’t think… I don’t think it was _my_ pain.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, it clicked. Holt seemed to notice as well, because he gave me a small nod, his eyes solemn.

“Is that enough to prove your theory?” Michael asked.

“Yeah,” I answered for Holt. “I think I know, or at least I can sort of guess, what’s going on with me. The reason why it doesn’t _feel_ like my pain is because it _isn’t_ mine. It’s Silena’s.”

Michael’s eyebrows shot up. “Silena’s?!”

“Will has a special ability that I haven’t seen in a healer of Apollo for a long time,” Holt said. “The gift of empathy. Although...” He faltered.

“Although what?” Michael demanded.

Holt’s eyes went downcast and he sighed in defeat. “The last healer with this gift suffered greatly. She called it more of a curse than any gift.”

I fiddled with the sheets nervously. “What happened to her?”

Holt’s expression was steely and impassive. He paused momentarily and threaded his fingers together, almost with the same precision he attended to surgical operations. “She was too bold for her youth,” he said, an air of finality in his voice.

Michael and I shared a look. The message was clear. In that moment we both agreed not to push him any further about her.

“Alright, so what’s going to happen to Will? Is it gonna get worse for him?” Michael asked.

“No,” Holt said firmly. “We will train you properly, my boy. You will learn to use your abilities in conjunction with your healing. You will become skilled at what you do, and you will supersede me. But above all, you will learn to be in control, to be discerning, to act in good judgement.

“Your abilities will allow you to reach heights, Will. But for your sake and for the sake of these campers, you _must_ be wise.”

_—_

By the time Holt let me out of the infirmary, it was already nearing curfew. Michael had stayed with me until Holt deemed that I was strong enough. Only fragments of Silena’s pain remained within me, like a sore that was beginning to scab over.

I’d be lying if I said that the news of my ‘empathy thing’ didn’t worry me in the slightest. In fact, it actually kind of terrified me. And it was more than just the ominous way that Holt had built it up.

I was nine years old when my mama dropped me off at the Texan airport into the hands of a scruffy man with a strange limp. The thought of leaving her almost brought me to tears, but it was the frantic look in her eyes, and the way she kept glancing over her shoulder that kept me from protesting. She was as steady and reassuring as she usually was during the drive to the airport. But she couldn’t completely hide her sheer terror from me, or the relief when she saw the scruffy man.

_“Be good,” she told me, holding me in her arms. “Don’t try to come back here until Chiron says you’re ready, okay?” She was beginning to tremble when she kissed my forehead, and I could see tears in her eyes. “Goodbye for now, love. Remember that Mama loves you.”_

It was the first time I had ridden in a plane, and it was the only chance I thought I was going to get to ride one. I sat quietly like the church boy my mama had raised me to be, but I hated every moment of it. I couldn’t have been more grateful when we finally landed in New York, but that gratefulness was short lived when the reality of the situation finally dawned on me. I was a little kid, far from home, from my friends, from my mama.

It only added to my stress when I was told that my dad was some Ancient Greek god who had supposedly died out centuries ago. What did that mean? Was my dad was alive? Why hadn’t he come to visit Mama and I when my pops had died, or when Mama was struggling, or when I first ‘healed’ someone? And who was he?

Apollo didn’t even need to claim me for the satyrs to figure out I was his. But he did, anyway. It was the first time I really felt like I belonged. With my half-siblings, we were taught to be conscious of our gifts, because from there, our fatal flaws would emerge. We were warned to be careful because unlike most of the other cabins, Apollo’s children inherited a diversity of his abilities, simply because he was the patron of so many things. It was impossible to detect a single fatal flaw that we’d all share. So the burden was on us to be watchful.

I didn’t think I had a fatal flaw. I already knew my abilities, and there was nothing dangerous about them. Jayden was skilled in at least three different long-range weapons. But he had been warned about the dangers of avoiding confrontation. Carmen’s ingenuity in learning how to manipulate sound was her divine gift. But she meditated every morning too, as training to control her aggression and tendency to overwhelm.

Being a healer, in my opinion, was the best of Apollo’s divine traits to inherit. To be able to heal was a life giving gift. It didn’t seek to harm like his gifts of archery, and it was definitely more useful than his gifts of music. I took comfort in the fact that maybe, I was safe from the looming ‘curse’ of having a fatal flaw.

Until I found out that I had been given another curse to burden. This ‘gift’ of empathy, I realised, was dangerous. It had knocked me off my feet and had me suffering for hours. And that was only a glimpse of it. What would happen if I didn’t learn to use it properly?

I didn’t bother answering that question. I already knew the answer.

Michael and I walked together in silence for a few moments before he inevitability spoke again. “How are you holding up, buddy?”

“You’ve asked me that at least five times today,” I said.

“And each time, it was a perfectly valid question,” he replied without missing a beat. “Does it still hurt?”

I shook my head. “Uh, uh. It was really intense to begin with, but I’ve been processing it throughout the day. Should be gone by tomorrow.”

Michael hummed thoughtfully. “So you’re worried about your empathy thingo, then,” he said.

I glanced at him for a millisecond. He caught my eye and chuckled. “You know I can read you like an open book,” Michael said. 

I sighed in defeat. It wasn’t the first time someone had told me that. I had figured out a long time ago how futile arguing back would be.

“Ah, it’s just your fear of the unknown,” Michael said, nudging me lightly. “It’s scary now because you barely know anything about it. But Holt’ll make sure you get the best training here. And if not him, I’ll personally see to it.”

“It’s not just that,” I said. “What if this is my fatal flaw? Or where my fatal flaw comes from? I mean, I can get all the training in the world, but that’s not going to change the fact that this is my fatal flaw.”

Michael scowled at the sky. “It’s dangerous to have that attitude, Will,” he said, his voice taking on a different, colder edge. “I’ve seen heroes die, having gone insane with the paranoia of avoiding their fatal flaw. Ironically, it ends up being the exact opposite of their flaw that kills them.”

As he stared at the sky, his features softened slightly. He looked kind of… wistful. There was pain beyond that look in his eyes. Something like despair and regret.

“Michael?”

His gaze snapped back to the present path before us and he walked quickly. I jogged slightly to catch up with him. “Are you okay?” I asked

“It’s nothing,” he said dismissively, but there was an edge of finality in those two words. I shot him another nervous look, but I knew not to push it.

There was no doubt that Michael loved his big mouth. If he wasn’t down at the archery range, or doing something for Chiron or Mr D as head counsellor, he was arguing with someone. He’d get so riled up, that I’d often be called in to patch up both parties. Michael always ended up taking the brunt of the fight — he was never that good at close combat — but that didn’t stop him from starting another fight at the next available opportunity. In my opinion, he loved arguing with people, and did so on purpose. 

But for all his talking and arguing, he was the most guarded person I knew. I felt like I simultaneously knew everything and nothing about him. I knew about all his opinions, his thoughts on everyone and everything that happened at camp, even when I didn’t want to. I knew about his strengths and weaknesses in combat, the little patterns when he fought, the parts of his body he always neglected to defend. I knew every little detail about him, his morning routine, his favourite jokes, his sleeping habits.

The only thing he kept his mouth shut on were the things that mattered. I knew nothing of his trials and burdens, his insecurities, the things that haunted him at night. And nothing in the world could tempt him to talk about it.

It was worrying. Michael was generally full of energy, bursting with something to say or do. But it pained me to see him on days when he was quiet, on nights he tossed and turned on the bunk bed above me, at the times when he accidentally let slip a sliver of the things he kept so tightly locked up within him. It hurt to see him suffering, and knowing there was nothing I could do about it.

“Anyways, there’s one other thing I wanted to talk to you about, Will,” he said. Panic rose up within me, and I faltered momentarily. Michael chuckled again. “Relax, I can feel your stress from here.”

I shot him a glare, and he laughed. “Never change, buddy,” he said.

I rolled my eyes. “Alright, get on with it.”

Michael let out another small chuckle before fixing himself up. “It’s not that big of a deal,” he said dismissively.

“When you say it like that, it is.”

“Well, to me, it isn’t really,” he replied, not missing a beat. He inhaled softly and put his hands in his pockets, and I got the feeling he was working up the nerve to speak. “I’m seventeen this year, Will,” he said, though it sounded like he was admitting to a crime. “I’ve been a full time camper for almost ten years now. I’ve been on one quest, and that was the raid we went on for the chariot last year with Clarisse’s cabin. But still, I’ve barely been outside camp. As much as I love Camp Half-Blood, there’s a lot you miss out on when you’re cooped up in here for that amount of time.”

He hesitated for a moment. “I… I haven’t seen my mother since I left for this place. Or spoken to her. Gods, I can barely remember what she looks like.

“But I was able to get into contact with her a few weeks ago, with Chiron’s help. She wants to see me again. Well, in fact, she wants me to live with her for maybe a year or two. She wants to enrol me in a community college so I at least have something to fall back on if I ever decide to do something beyond Camp. And... I think she’s right.”

Our cabin was visible in the distance, but I stopped walking. “What are you trying to say?”

Michael stopped and turned back, facing me. He was a short guy, practically the same height as me, but in this moment he seemed to loom over me. He looked down at me, a small smile on his lips.

“I’m stepping down as head counsellor for Apollo after this summer.”

I was absolutely dumbfounded.

“Okay, let me explain-“

“Did I hear you correctly?” I blurted out. “Did I hear you tell me that you were stepping down as head counsellor after this summer?”

Michael chuckled nervously. “Yep.”

Then it started to sink in. He was leaving in a few months. A guy who’d I’d always associated with this place, a constant figure in my life, was leaving camp. He was the very first camper who spoke to me from the moment I arrived, even before I had been claimed. In everything I had been through, he had been there. It was too unbelievable to be true. I _couldn’t_ believe it.

Michael reached out and closed my mouth. I hadn’t even realised it had fallen open. “Alright before you spontaneously explodeout of shock, I think I better explain.”

“You think?!” I shrieked. 

He sighed softly. “It’s only going to be for a year or two, three years at most. And it’s not like you won’t be able to contact me. There’s always Iris message, or you could come up to Minnesota yourself. There are plenty of solutions.”

“But what about the rest of us back here at camp?!” I shot back. “You need to be there for us, Michael! You’re our head counsellor for a reason! We need you, too!”

“Try to understand, Will,” he said, his voice gentle and patient. The fact that he was able to keep his head pissed me off even more. I could deal with Michael arguing back with me, because I knew how I could win. But this other side of him was unfamiliar, if not barely seen at all. “I know my role here, and I know that what I do is important. But just like all the other head counsellors, I’m also expendable. Someone better for the future of the cabin will rise up to take my place. I don’t hold the monopoly over what’s good for the cabin. It’s the position that’s important, not the individual. And the position is flexible. The individual isn’t. Do you understand, buddy?”

I wanted to protest. But he was making sense. And I didn’t have a counter argument as strong as his. I couldn’t help but nod helplessly in agreement.

“Besides,” he continued, the small smile reappearing. “It’s more than just the head counsellor position, or even the community college.” His gaze drifted to the sky. “Camp Half-Blood will always hold a place in my heart,” he said earnestly. “But my mom, above anything else, is my home.”

And just like that, all the irritation left me. He was right. That was the end to it. In a way, I knew exactly what he was talking about. After all, there was no one more precious to me than my mama.

“You miss her,” I said softly.

He turned back to face me, an old tiredness in his eyes. “I really do.” He glanced back at the sky. “She’s out there waiting for me, I can feel it. I’ve been away for far too long.”

In the distance, I heard the sound of the cleaning harpies flying towards the cabins. “Come on, Michael,” I said, grabbing his arm. “We need to get inside.”

We walked the short distance to our cabin. “Oh, and one other thing before I forget,” he said, knocking on the door. “There’s going to be a weird interim period after I leave while Chiron and the other head counsellor decide who’ll take my place. The cabin needs guidance, even in that time. And I want you to look after them for me, Will.”

Before I could even react, the door swung open and Austin swept me inside. My half siblings crowded around me, shooting off a million questions every second. It was as if I had returned from the dead, with the welcome I received.

I didn’t get the chance to question Michael about what he said. By the time my half siblings released me, he was already fast asleep. I didn’t have the heart to wake him up.

That night, I felt the last of Silena’s pain dissipate. In its place, I could feel a new energy buzzing about in me. It was a presence, like white noise, in the background. It wasn’t harmful, like Silena’s pain had been. But it didn’t bring me any comfort, either. And as much as I tried to convince myself that my new abilities weren’t dangerous, I couldn’t shake off the sense that I was standing on the precipice of something big and catastrophic.

**Author's Note:**

> alright if you made it this far, thanks for reading!! i know this is a low traffic tag, so i appreciate that y'all found my story and decided to read it. also, im horrible at doing multi-chaptered fics because i can't commit, but then again i've never tried posting any of my multi-chaptered fics before. we'll see how it goes, but i do really wanna finish this. also, feel free to leave a comment with some (gently) criticism!! did the first person thing work out for you guys??


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